


Devil's In Your Kiss

by BewareTheIdes15



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Dubious Consent, M/M, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BewareTheIdes15/pseuds/BewareTheIdes15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Easy prey is not Jensen's thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's In Your Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Aerosmith's "Crying".

Easy prey is not Jensen’s thing. Sure it’s simple to hunt down the wounded gazelle, but then you’re stuck eating damaged goods and when ‘eating’ equals ‘fucking’ the prerogative to be choosy becomes more of an imperative. Still, there are exceptions to every rule, and when said wounded gazelle is tall and muscular and gorgeous with a smile that honest to God stopped Jensen dead for half a second wondering what the odds were of the kid actually having a little of the Blood in him… well, there’s something to be said for damaged goods.

He’s not really hungry – he doesn’t actually have to do a full feeding all that often; a little top-off on the energy thrumming through a bar or, tonight, a nightclub is plenty to keep him satisfied for a while. Still, this kid is the kind of sweet that doesn’t walk into Jensen’s life every night, and that’s worth switching up his dinner plans.

The boy is beautiful, innocent in way that sinks its teeth into Jensen deep and refuses to let go, even though he’s obviously trying hard to disguise it with bravado and frat-boy beer swilling. Not to mention the possessive hand he has settled low on the back of the tiny brunette next to him. If he knows he’s into dick he’s never tried it, though Jensen sort of doubts it’s on his radar yet. He’s not quite a virgin, that’s clear in the scent of him, but he’s never been in the deep end of the connection pool, never really gotten a taste of something that will satisfy his needs. And his body knows it even if he doesn’t; his eyes landed on Jensen three steps through the door and he’s been fighting to keep them to himself ever since.

Some other time, Jensen might cut him a break - the girl is cute and there's something to be said for the juxtaposition of having something that big and something that small both at once. That would be gluttonous though, considering he doesn't actually need either one, and maybe, just maybe, he doesn't want the kid to have an out on the why when he thinks about Jensen later. Maybe he wants him all to himself.

Hell, when did this go from musing to planning?

He could wait. Should wait. Will wait. He will. It shouldn't be very hard to track the boy with a scent like that coming off of him like sex and brown sugar and once he knows where to find him, he'll be able to go back some night when he's truly hungry so he can savor it. It's a good plan, exactly what he going to do, no question about it. Then the kid turns and reaches for one of the shots the bartender just lined up for his group and pauses in the middle of it to take the ten-cent tour of Jensen's body with his eyes.

Jensen shouldn’t, he really truly shouldn’t because giving himself an inch is just asking for trouble and taking the thinks-he’s-straight kid away from a group of his friends for a quick fuck in the back room is the kind of subtle that’s not at all, but he just can’t help himself, has to have at least one real taste before he walks away.

He reaches out with his power, just barely flickers it at the edges of the boy’s awareness and feels him latch on...

Jensen is utterly and irredeemably screwed.

That? That right there with the bangs and the dimples and the hungry hazel eyes that have gone just a little bit glazed as he sinks into the thrall like it’s a warm bath? Jensen has never tasted anything as good as that, and if it’s that succulent when the guy’s just sitting there forgetting to pay attention to his buddies, then the hit when he comes… Yeah, Jensen needs some of that. Immediately if not sooner.

It's entirely too easy to tilt his head just a little, barely a suggestion of beckoning and the boy is melting into the crowd making his way over. Jensen's breath catches again, heart stuttering over a beat because he has never, not once, seen anyone go under that easily. He sends up a silent thank you to whatever luck let him be the first one of his kind to ever come across this kid - not that there are that many of them roaming around, but the boy tastes like candy and he's practically begging for it; Jensen wouldn't be surprised if his breed were to migrate here just to find him.

But that's not going to be a problem anymore. Jensen knows it even before the kid has brushed past the last few people standing between them and comes to a stop directly in front of Jensen; couldn't be prettier if he was all wrapped up and tied with a bow. Knows it without even needing to decide - he's going to mark this boy tonight, make sure he's the only one of his kind that will ever get to enjoy this. Giving it up is not even an option.

"Hello," he says, keeping a casual interest in his voice that doesn't even come close to the heat boiling in his veins. There's no need to put a lick of power behind it, but he can, is hardly using any to keep the kid under, and he has to admit he's a little curious what reaction it'll get.

The answer is a helpless flutter of long eyelashes, a shiver that's palpable on the air, straight white teeth sinking into the pink swell of a lip. The kid looks like he could lose it at a snap of Jensen's fingers and oh fuck yes, that is a theory they will be testing. Maybe not now, since Jensen's not entirely sure he'd be able to control himself either if the waves of want and bliss and submission lapping against his skin were to break into orgasm, but somewhere down the line with a little more privacy, yes.

"Hi," the kid answers like an afterthought, distracted. His voice is gorgeous, deep, Jensen wants to breathe it instead of air. He keeps blinking heavily like he knows something out of the ordinary's going on. He's not fighting it at all, though, and once Jensen reaches out and puts a hand on his hip, thumb slipping under the hem of his blue button-down and black t-shirt to press against hot skin, it's a moot point.

Jensen feels the connection sharp as the slice of a knife through the contact; electric and needy, delectable. He could get addicted to this embarrassingly easily. The way the kid's strong arm shoots out to brace himself against the bar, legs going visibly weak for a moment, says he wouldn't mind. That and the obscenely obvious bulge of his cock.

He hates to divide his attention, but the boy is doing most of the heavy lifting for him and if he's as nice a guy as Jensen thinks he is then his friends are also probably... Yep, they're looking, a uniform concern on their faces. Glamouring this many at once is a bit more challenging, but this isn't Jensen's first rodeo. A soft layer of his power ought to keep them reasonably preoccupied enough to give him a chance to decide on his next move. If his smile when they all break out into punch-drunk laughter across the way is more of a wicked smirk, well his quarry certainly isn't calling him on it.

That reminds him. "What's your name?" he asks, too quiet with all of the music and chatter but he knows the kid hears him, probably can't hear anything else right now.

"Jared," he breathes, desperate and immediate, needing to please. Oh this is going to be so impossibly good.

Jensen repeats the name, letting it roll off his tongue with another unnecessary trickle of power just to watch Jared shiver again and take an involuntary step closer.

"I'm Jensen," he supplies, watching Jared's mouth move around the word, repeat it over and over like he forgot what he was doing. Hazy-eyed focus is all for Jensen when he uses his free hand to tip Jared's jaw toward him, another zing of razor-edged pleasure swimming through his system with the touch. "What would you like to do tonight, Jared?"

Usually he's a little more subtle than this, coaxing, playing the part, but Jared's in so far over his head that there's not much point and Jensen hasn't got the patience with all of that second-hand desire clogging his senses.

Jared pants a choppy, open-mouthed breath. “Whatever you want.”

Jensen grins at that, leans in just to watch Jared go with it easy, moving to open for Jensen before he’s even made contact. He mumbles, “Such a good answer,” against Jared’s lips and lets his tongue dip inside.

It’s dirty pool by any standards - the chemicals in his saliva intensify the thrall and Jared hardly needs any help with that – but kissing him is like boiling honey pooling in Jensen’s stomach and he’s fairly sure he’s already developed a craving for more. Oh this kid is going to be impossible to quit.

Jared moans when Jensen pulls back after not nearly long enough, a quaking, wordless plea, loud enough that a couple of people nearest them stop and stare. Jensen couldn’t care less and Jared probably doesn’t have the wherewithal to notice. Instead he just follows along like a puppy on a leash when Jensen grabs on to his wrist and starts winding them through the crowd.

There’s a little room in the back that was most likely intended for storage before somebody made the mistake – had the stroke of brilliance – of putting a couch in there as in impromptu VIP room. Now it’s used pretty much exclusively for sex. Jensen’s gotten well acquainted with it.

When Jensen drags Jared through the door there's a couple going at it on said couch, clothes half-on, a condom packet between the guy's teeth, just ready to tear open. This sort of thing is harder, taking targets that are already hopped up on sex hormones and getting them to stop. It works contrary to the natural flow of Jensen's powers, but it’s doable and he's not entirely sure he's ever been this motivated before.

“Could you excuse us, please?” he says politely, only a hint of the strain from wrapping them both in straightjackets of his power showing through in his voice. The girl shifts uncomfortably, fighting with her natural instincts and the way Jensen’s twisting them before she slides off of her boyfriend’s lap and tugs on his arm.

He can feel the heat of Jared’s body pressing in close beside him, not quite touching – such a good boy, waiting for permission – but hovering just shy of it. Jensen slides a finger underneath Jared’s shirts to pet the taut rim of his navel as a reward. Jared whimpers, the bulge of his cock visibly leaping in his jeans.

With a stumble and some more dragging and a couple of disgruntled curses, the couple gathers up the scattered remains of their outfits and make their exit.The boyfriend gives him a confused look that wants to be a scowl as he’s ushered out, the door closing courteously behind them.

"Now then," Jensen can feel his smile turning into a smirk again as he turns to face Jared, "Get on the couch for me?"

It's phrased as a question, but that's more for effect than anything else - a little something for Jared to stick on later when he tries to understand how all of this happened. Jared hasn't got half the will power it would take to resist Jensen right now and that's just as well for both of them.

A flick of Jensen's finger halts him when he makes to sit down on the black velveteen cover of the sofa, just holds there, muscles bunching beneath his jeans as he maintains a half-crouch. So damn starving for Jensen's approval. Christ that's hot. Jared follows the silent command when Jensen gestures for him to turn around instead. His hands come to rest on the back of the couch, knees on the seat, feet dangling off of the front.

Tension is strung all through his frame but he's doing a good job of holding still. That doesn't stop Jensen from feeling the way he's all but vibrating with want. Strong shoulders tighten when Jensen knees onto the cushion behind Jared, a whole night of desperate, sweaty sex in the scent pouring off of him. Ravenous for it already and Jensen's barely even touched him.

The fuck-shot springs screech as Jensen adjusts his weight, pressing himself up against Jared's back in a feverish line that makes Jared gasp and knead at the stuffing under his hands. Neither one of them has got the patience for it now, but Jensen would so love to spread him out in a bed and really do this right - tease and touch and promise until so much as a kiss to his cheek or a finger running down his chest will make Jared come screaming. Next time. And hell yes, there’s no point in even pretending there won’t be a next time, not with all the _please, please, please_ , that's wafting off of Jared sluicing over his skin.

Jensen knows the answer, but he has to ask anyway, "Have you done this before?" just to hear that catch in Jared's breath, slinking into his ear and straight to his groin like a low-grade lightning bolt. Deftly he unfastens Jared's belt buckle - a big red and silver number with a rooster and the word 'cocky'; if it weren't for the very informative feel he's getting with his wrists and the backs of his hands, he'd say Jared was compensating - the buttons of his fly following in rapid succession.

"N-not," Jared chokes as Jensen shimmys both the jeans and his tight briefs down to his thighs. "Not with a guy."

That doesn't seem to be bothering him much at the moment from the way the arches into the touch Jensen just barely skims over the flat of his abs, his hips, pert swell of his ass. Yes, next time, he absolutely has to get Jared naked, see all of that flexing strength that's straining against polyester and wash-worn denim. For now, though, this will do, just enough of a taste to slake the need.

Jensen slides two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with spit before pressing them into the perfect, untouched cleft of Jared's ass, right up against his hole.

The first slides in grudingly, virgin tight, and Jared's hands white-knuckle on the cushions.Reaching around Jared's body to palm his cock with his free hand helps with that, as does taking back his fingers just long enough to get his own pants undone and smear his digits with precome.

He prefers to avoid this particular measure if he can; his body is designed on a imperative - take prey, keep them, drain them dry - and the fact that they've evolved as a species not to need to kill humans doesn't seem to have fazed the biology. His fluids, in particular the sexual ones, can be addictive to humans if over-exposed, which can be, to say the least, awkward. Still, they are made specifically for this and there are times, like now, when it's better to accept that gift than to worry about the consequences.

The second push in is much easier, his finger slotting in all the way to the knuckle. He can feel the clenched muscles release as the chemicals seep through Jared's tender inner flesh and into the bloodstream, the wave of lust in his scent almost overwhelming.

"Take these off," Jensen demands, yanking at Jared's shirts. His voice is too low, ringing unnaturally through the dank, empty space; true self too close to the surface. The sound of it prompts Jared to push back on his fingers, hips moving restlessly with a need so palpable that Jensen could practically lick it off of the tempting curve of his neck, feeling it crackle and pop against his tongue. Fucking hell, this kid.

Moaning, Jared fumblingly complies as Jensen pushes in his second finger and then, too quickly, a third.The reveal is gorgeous, rippling strength under satin skin; a tan, sumptuous offering that Jensen can't resist setting his mouth to.

He's not so much jerking Jared off as just holding onto his dick as it twitches and leaks for him. It doesn't matter much because Jared's whole focus appears to be centered on the fingers Jensen has pistoning into him, the slight rub of a grip around his cock only ancillary. The sensation is so much Jensen can barely stand it, the scent of his desire, the taste of it in his sweat, in his energy, the feel of his skin and the hot, wanton blood prickling to the surface when Jensen digs his teeth in too hard.

He hears himself saying, "I want to fuck you," even as he's lining up the head, swollen furl of Jared's hole kissing his slit. Jared cries out, "Yes!" like he's coming, like he's seeing God when Jensen's still got a fist around his hard, unrelieved flesh and as fucking terrible an idea as it is to do it this fast, this bare, there's no way for Jensen to stop now.

He shoves in to the hilt on one stroke, hard and not nearly slick enough, knowing that Jared will still be feeling this for days; wondering if he'll get hard for it, shove a couple of fingers inside and get off on it. Right now he sure as hell is, bucking back against Jensen like having a cock sheathed in his ass is the only thing he ever wants to feel again.

Damn, he'd make one hell of a fucktoy, could be Jensen's own personal pet. Dress him up and flaunt him around town and then take him home and fuck him pliant until the only thing he remembers how to say is 'Jensen' and 'thank you'. And oh fuck, _shut up, shut up_ , can't think shit like that, can't _do_ shit like that, don't even get started.

He digs his teeth into Jared's shoulder as if that will help, gets a whine and this - fucking _fuck!_ \- swivel of Jared's hips in return. Kid is a goddamn ass-fucking prodigy. All tight, sweet heat that would be enough, so much more than enough, even if Jensen wasn't what he is, even if he couldn't feel all of that powdered-sugar energy dusting him, being absorbed into that need in him that food and drink can never touch.

The next brutal thrust has him skating over Jared's prostate, not even searching for it, just slamming it like it was placed there for him to find. Jared wails, mewls, claws at cheap, imitation velvet and fucks the hell out of the empty air in front of him as Jensen pounds into him relentlessly, as much control over his own body as a puppet dancing on Jared's strings.

What the hell does that even mean? He's the one in control here. He's the one with Jared wrapped around his little finger, willing to do anything Jensen wants. He's the one- He- ...He- What the hell is this feeling?

"Jensen, Jensen," is more of a grunt, barely audible over the sharp sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing off of the walls. Jensen's shirt has ridden up between their bodies, pants sliding down, every inch of exposed skin tingling like static shock just waiting to snap.

Jared lets go of the couch with one arm, the other immediately collapsing under the power of their mutual thrusts, leaving Jared bent obscenely over the back of the sofa, practically presented to Jensen on a silver platter.

His fingers are digging roughly into Jared's skin - have to if he's going to stay on the couch under the force of Jared working back against him, as much riding Jensen as he is getting fucked. There's going to be bruises on him tomorrow, dark livid ones on his hips, his chest, thighs, deep red-laced ones on his back where Jensen can't keep his damn mouth to himself. Yeah, model of self-control over here.

Fuck he is not only supposed to be better than this, he _is_ better than this. He could provide fucking references on how good he is at managing the thrall, keeping everything fulfilling but detached. Where's that shit now when he could really use it? At some point this shot right past the 'shocking but undeniably erotic first gay experience' he'd been planning on giving Jared and right into... into something the fuck else.

The couch squeals as it skids over the finished concrete floor - who even knows how far they've moved it by now - and Jared's hand smacks back into Jensen's hip, big enough to curl all the way around it so his fingertips brush the crack like a taunt. Something about that wrings wild pleasure out of Jensen so suddenly that he can't do anything but break under the weight of it.

For a hummingbird-wing flutter of a moment his rational brain - where the fuck have you been? - sticks its head in to point out 'you should have used a condom' while the rest of him is still twisting spastically, trying to stomp on the brakes when they've already careened over the cliff. White prickles burst behind his eyelids and blood surges frying-oil hot through his veins as he helplessly pumps Jared full and slick.

Feeling more than he does at this moment shouldn't even be possible, but the second the first blurt of come pulses free, Jared locks up around him and Jensen catches the ricochet of the kid's orgasm full in the face, the power of it pouring over his skin like hot syrup and lit dynamite. Almost against his will - he can't take the intensity of this - he finds himself reaching around Jared's body to get a hand on his slippery, spasming cock to work him through the rest of it.

Finally, after the pleasure has crossed the line into legitimately painful, they both collapse, tumbling haphazardly into the cushions. Jared's laying half on his side, half on top of Jensen, the sharp wing of his shoulder blade digging into Jensen's chest. His weight is nearly crushing, but Jensen finds that he doesn't mind, actually enjoys the warm, solid presence and the heady satisfied buzz radiating from him.

With more effort than should strictly be necessary Jensen manages to convince his body it needs to pull out, a warm back-rush over his thigh as his come starts to leak out immediately. Well, he did decide he was going to mark the kid. He hadn't exactly intended to do it quite so thoroughly but in the moment, well, there wasn't a lot of opportunity - or brain function - to consider it. That most base part of himself is pleased with the whole thing regardless - the fact that anyone with the right set of senses will know Jared's already spoken for - and right now he's too worn out to argue with it.

Jared turns over with a small groan and a minimum of elbow jabbing, ending up sprawled out across Jensen's chest. Automatically, Jensen's arms close around him. He really is a beautiful thing, even moreso now that he's all flushed and sex-doped. There are soaked tendrils of hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead and his lips are a pretty, bitten pink, blood-warm when Jensen can't resist pressing his own to them for a moment.

Up close, his eyes are hazel, particularly blue in this light, and Jensen catches himself in the middle of wondering what they would look like other times; with the sun shining on them, or the light of a bedside lamp just before turning in, a little less thrall-glassy, a little more real. It's not the sort of thing he's ever thought of before about a human.

"What are you?" he asks before he has a chance to think about it. Jared smiles dazedly, still mostly out of his head, and leans in to kiss Jensen again. It's a damn fine question, and one he would really like to know the answer to because whatever this is he's feeling, it isn't anything approximating normal. But it's hard to focus on complex existential quandaries like that when Jared's suckling happily on his tongue, Jensen's come still seated deep inside of him, claiming him, and the delicate twitch against Jensen's thigh says there may be another round in this yet.

The question will keep, for a while at least - right now Jensen has more important matters to attend to.


End file.
